(Written to an old English air)
The morn was bright, the steeds were light,
The wedding guests were gay:
Young Ellen stood within the wood
And watched them pass away.
She scarcely saw the gallant train:
The tear-drop dimmed her ee:
Unheard the maiden did complain
Beneath the Willow-Tree.
“Oh Robin, thou didst love me well,
Till, on a bitter day,
She came, the Lady Isabel,
And stole thy heart away.
My tears are vain: I live again
In days that used to be,
When I could meet thy welcome feet
Beneath the Willow-Tree.
“Oh Willow gray, I may not stay
Till Spring renew thy leaf;
But I will hide myself away,
And nurse a lonely grief.
It shall not dim Life’s joy for him:
My tears he shall not see:
While he is by, I’ll come not nigh
My weeping Willow-Tree.
“But when I die, oh let me lie
Beneath thy loving shade,
That he may loiter careless by,
Where I am lowly laid.
And let the white white marble tell,
If he should stoop to see,
‘Here lies a maid that loved thee well,
Beneath the Willow-Tree.’”
1859.